


The Lucky Ones

by Miserys-Toll (MiserysToll)



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: M/M, No New Dangan Ronpa V3 Spoilers, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 00:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14437872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiserysToll/pseuds/Miserys-Toll
Summary: When it’s time to renovate the second island, they draw sticks. Komaeda and Hinata pair up blue.“I thought you were supposed to be lucky, Hajime,” Soda says over his shoulder, grimacing sympathetically. He vanishes just as quickly, as if evading the possibility that Hinata might beg for a trade.“Sorry,” Komaeda says sheepishly, “I guess my luck won out this time.”





	The Lucky Ones

When it’s time to renovate the second island, they draw sticks. Komaeda and Hinata pair up blue.

“I thought you were supposed to be lucky, Hajime,” Soda says over his shoulder, grimacing sympathetically. He vanishes just as quickly, as if evading the possibility that Hinata might beg for a trade.

“Sorry,” Komaeda says sheepishly, “I guess my luck won out this time.”

* * *

After Owari generously kicks in the storage room wall for easier access, they set up work lamps to illuminate the space until Hinata can fix the movie theater’s wiring issues. She offers a final “Good luck, dudes!” before moving on to her own assigned project, leaving in a cloud of thick, grey dust.

Hinata uses a label maker to print out identifying flags to attach to the wires, his grimy toolbox waiting beside him for the real work. The initial task is monotonous, repetitive and uninspiring, and he finds himself frequently glancing at Komaeda’s hunched form with jealousy.

After sweeping up the crumbled drywall Owari had left in her wake, Komaeda took to going through box upon box of disorganized films to make a list of what was available. The boy made frequent “hmm”s and “huh”s under his breath, as if each title was a fascinating new discovery. Of course, this made Hinata frustratingly curious, and he began to resent Kamakura’s vast Super High School Level collection of talents that made him the obvious candidate for a task as delicate as electrical rewiring. If only Soda hadn’t been appropriately delegated to the hospital.

After Komaeda’s tenth “wow,” Hinata finally caves. “Find anything worth watching?” he asks.

Komaeda jolts, as if he somehow forgot that Hinata was there in that cramped, humid room occupied by only the two of them. Or maybe as if he had just never considered the idea that Hinata might try and talk to him.

“It’s amazing!” Komaeda says excitedly, gesturing to the pile of already documented films on his clipboard, and begins to point them out individually. “There are movies here made by the last three Super High School Level Film Students! As if that weren’t already enough, there are a few more films with the word “hope” in the title! And even a documentary by a conspiracy theorist about where Super High School Level talents came from.”

Hinata shakes his head exasperatedly, and then glances at a pile of films that had obviously been tossed into a box with complete disregard to their safety, and asks, “What are those?”

Komaeda gives him an odd look, and angles the box so that Hinata can see where he’d written **NOT HOPEFUL** in thick black marker. “For the incinerator.”

Alarmed, Hinata jumps up to examine the titles himself. “Komaeda, some of these are the highest grossing films in Japan of all time. You smashed _Ponyo_ !” he complains, and begins to fish through the box to preserve whatever films are still intact. Finding _The Matrix_ in two pieces is just about emblematic of his breaking heart.

Komaeda manages to look at least a little abashed, holding a hand up in apology, and says, “I thought I was being helpful. I should have known that trash like me would have terrible taste in movies.”

Hinata fights the urge to shout, _You really do!_ which might be construed as validating the first part of that sentence, and instead focuses on reboxing the rescued films.

After a few moments, Komaeda picks up the copy of _Toy Story_ and begins to try and repair the unraveled film tape with his functioning hand. It gives Hinata pause. It’s still strange to see Komaeda’s bandaged hand hanging limply by his side, as if the butchered limb finally began to reject its host the moment Komaeda began to reject Enoshima’s influence. Komaeda was always such an expressive speaker in the simulation, emphatic over every word. Seeing his typical gestures cut in half continues to be startling.

Hinata wonders if the arm truly stopped functioning, or if Komaeda just chooses not to use it anymore, and asks as much.

“Does it matter?” Komaeda asks, appearing genuinely surprised that Hinata would express curiosity toward him.

“...Yes?” Hinata replies cautiously.

“It works in a pinch. Like if I trip and fall, it will fly out to keep me from smashing my face on the pavement. But movement is limited to slight bending at the wrist and it’s completely numb to all stimuli. I prefer not to use it—I don’t need the reminder of her to keep me motivated anymore,” Komaeda says, staring absently at the bandaged limb that rests uselessly in his lap.

Hinata recalls the bright red lacquered fingernails hidden from view, and winces. The image disturbs him the same way it initially filled Kamakura with bored derision. “I never understood how it could motivate you to begin with.”

Komaeda’s smile is almost worshipful as he looks over Hinata and says, “Maybe if I had met you first…Super High School Level Hope.”

Hinata doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “You can have a new one.”

Komaeda looks both curious and horrified as he protests, “I couldn’t possibly! It’s a privilege far too great for such worthless trash like me. And besides, you still need it Hinata, for much greater things.”

It takes a good thirty seconds for Hinata to grasp Komaeda’s meaning, and he’s hit with the same confusing combination of exasperation, amusement, and horror that he felt upon realizing what the box of ruined tapes contained. He splutters out, “N-Not my arm! Good lord, Komaeda! I was talking about a new one, engineered by Kazuichi and me. I’ve been thinking about it a bit in my spare time, and I realized that if we recycled the same smart-material that those Towa Monokumas were built from, we could possibly build you a functioning prosthetic.”

Komaeda blinks, and then presses a pointer finger to his bottom lip in thought. “It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? To replace her flesh and blood arm with one manufactured specifically with her in mind.”

Hinata agrees to an extent, but argues, “The technology may have been designed for her annoying robot army, but the arm wouldn’t be. That would be designed specifically for you.”

That worshipful smile returns again, and Hinata can feel a blush rising beneath his shirt collar. “Think about it,” Hinata mutters awkwardly, and returns to his station across the room to finish rewiring.

He feels Komaeda’s gaze continue to rest on him while he works, and the pressure of it is simultaneously unnerving and stimulating. Having already finished the labeling, the remainder of the work only takes about an hour. A satisfying hum fills the dust-filled building when Hinata throws the breaker, and only a few of the ancient light bulbs pop and shatter on the floor.

“Finally,” Hinata sighs, wiping sweat from his brow. He never thought he’d be so thrilled to turn off a work lamp. He turns to Komaeda, and finds that the boy is staring at him with a soft smile on his face.

“Are you thirsty?” Hinata asks, and gestures to the hallway, “I think we deserve a break.”

Komaeda’s smile blows wide, and it’s less than half a second before he’s running passed Hinata, down the slanted corridor, broken light bulbs crunching beneath his boots.

“Komaeda! Wait—”

* * *

Hinata stares at the Blue Ram in his hands, hesitant to take a sip. Komaeda chugged the things like water, which made it all the less trustworthy.

They sit quietly, side by side on the bridge separating the first and second islands, Komaeda swinging his legs back and forth, Hinata cross-legged. The ocean breeze tugs gently at their hair and clothing, the smell of salty brine heavy in the humid air. Hinata hopes to god it will rain soon.

The simplicity of their current position is nostalgic of the first few days in that simulation, before class trials became routine, and their friends fell dead like flies in winter. He and Komaeda had sat similarly to this by the poolside, Komaeda making him laugh with his increasingly ridiculous suggestions for what his forgotten Super High School Level talent could be.

_“Super High School Level Yo-Yo Champion.”_

_“Be serious.”_

_“I could never joke about something so important as Super High School Level talents, Hinata.”_

_“I feel like you’re lying to me right now.”_

_“Hinata, I could never lie about something so important as Super High School Level talents.”_

_“...Okay.”_

_“Super High School Level Pretty Boy.”_

_“KOMAEDA!”_

It had been so easy. Although Hinata couldn’t remember any of his past at that time, he felt almost certain that he must have been very lonely. The ease with which he and Komaeda got along had filled him with restless energy. They sat maybe a little too closely, talked a little too quietly, like sharing a treasure trove of secrets. Hinata remembers trying to think of anything to say to prolong the conversation, not caring if their chat carried on past midnight. He went to bed that night tossing and turning, wondering how he could’ve kept Komaeda there one more moment.

Then the following evening, they had all held a party, and suddenly two of their friends were dead. And then Hinata was hit with the startling revelation that he didn’t know Komaeda at all.

Sitting with the boy now, chugging his third can of Blue Ram while Hinata hesitantly takes the first sip of his own, everything is different. He is no longer Hajime Hinata, possessor of one forgotten talent, looking for a new friend to connect with in a new, frightening place. Instead, he is Hinata, he is Kamakura, two people and one hundred talents combined into one body that maybe should be too small to share.

The old Hinata had been achingly empty in so many ways, longing for any excuse to feel special. Then Kamakura had been achingly empty in so many other ways—so, _so_ special, but lacking any light at all. Now that Hinata is reunited with his body, he can see so clearly what had gone wrong with the Kamakura experiment. Hinata hadn’t been a flaw that needed to be eradicated to make way for a new, flawless Hope. He was an integral piece of the puzzle. He was Kamakura’s soul. Kamakura was his talent. For the first time in his life, Hinata feels whole.

“Do you like it, Hinata?” Komaeda asks, breaking up his musings.

“Hajime,” he corrects, before he even registers the taste of the Blue Ram on his tongue. It’s too strong, too tart and sweet and cloying at the same time. He takes another sip anyway.

“Huh?” Komaeda asks, his too fluffy hair blowing in curtains across his face.

_“Maybe if I’d met you first...Super High School Level Hope.”_

“Call me Hajime,” he repeats, and tucks that stray lock of soft hair beyond Komaeda’s ear. “Everyone else already does. You can too.”

Komaeda lets out an uneasy laugh.

“I don’t know why a Super High School Level would want to do anything as intimate as calling trash like me by my first name, but I suppose if it were you I might like it,” Komaeda says thoughtfully, pressing his pointer finger to his bottom lip, “You can call me Nagito.”

“I don’t want to,” Hinata blurts out, then blanches once his brain catches up to his mouth. He glances up to apologize for saying something so rude, but Komaeda’s expression stops him. Rather than looking hurt or offended, Komaeda has a smug grin on his face, as if somehow pleased that Hinata would finally agree.

Hinata rolls his eyes at this frustrating boy and continues, “It’s not for the reason you think. I knew a guy named Nagito once. His voice was annoying. I just prefer Komaeda.”

Komaeda lets out a huff of a laugh and says quietly, “How unlucky that I should share a name with such an annoying person. Komaeda is just fine then.”

Hinata stretches his legs out in front of him to hang out over the water like Komaeda. Komaeda’s swinging legs come to a halt, his right knee pressed against Hinata’s left. They share soft, secretive smiles.

“So what sort of other Super High School Level talents do you have, Hajime?” Komaeda asks after a brief pause. “Is there a Super High School Level Yo-Yo Champion in there?”

Hinata tilts his head back to the sky and lets out a loud, exasperated laugh.

* * *

After a few more hours of labor, they celebrate the end of a hard day’s work by watching _Toy Story_ on the movie screen, a shared bucket of stale popcorn between them. The film reel itself is a bit warped, but it plays smoothly enough.

It’s after midnight when the movie ends. They walk back to the cottages, Komaeda animatedly explaining his opinions on the movie to Hinata. Hinata listens to all of it in good humor, and uses it to make a point about the value of films, even if they weren’t developed by Super High School Levels, or had “hope” in the title.

“Yes, yes,” Komaeda agrees, “Even movies created by incredibly average, boring people can contain a world of hope within them.”

As they draw nearer to the cottages, Hinata tries to think of anything he could do to prolong the conversation with this ridiculous, frustrating, passionate boy. Any reason to invite him over that didn’t sound like a horrible innuendo. _Want to come over and see my Monokuma figure collection?_ Not that he had one in the real world...he’d replaced it with Domos.

**CRASH.**

“What was that?” Hinata asks, picking up speed. He and Komaeda break into a jog, only to arrive upon the sight of one of the cottages completely destroyed, wood and plaster bent out at every wrong direction in a smoking heap. Owari  bends over with her hands on her knees, laughing her guts out the moment she sees them.

She wipes tears from her eyes and releases a few more deep-bellied laughs before saying, “Nekomaru and me were sparring and I kind of threw him into your house. Sorry, dude.” She pats Komaeda on one shoulder, and walks away. Briefly after, a plaster-covered Nidai pats the other shoulder, offering a loud, “Sorry about the mess!” before he, too, vanishes.

Komaeda throws an arm behind his head, and says cheerfully, “That’s okay! I can sleep out on one of the lawn chairs. It’s warm enough outside.”

He takes one step in the direction of the pool when the rain begins to pour, in warm fat drops that steam when they hit the pavement. Their clothes are glued to their skin within seconds.

“How unlucky,” Komaeda sighs, eyeing the crumbling disaster before him with dismay, puddles of water forming where his bedroom used to be.

Hinata glances at his own cabin door, graciously and peacefully intact.

“You can stay at my place tonight,” Hinata offers.

_I guess my luck won out this time._

**Author's Note:**

> Hajime noting that he used to know someone named Nagito with an annoying voice was a joking reference to Komaeda's terrible English VA, Bryce Papenbrook.
> 
> I haven't finished beating v3 yet, so please no spoilers!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Comments, bookmarks, and kudos are love. :^)


End file.
